


Untie Me, Lord

by wingless



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night (Visual Novel)
Genre: Complicated Marriage, Doomed Relationship, Gen, Illusions, Implied Violence (against a child), Introspection, Married Couple, Non-Graphic Violence, POV Second Person, Suicide, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-13
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-29 03:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/682431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingless/pseuds/wingless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirei comes to say goodbye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untie Me, Lord

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is h-hahahahaha it wouldn't leave my head so I wrote this just to get it out

It is mentioned, somewhere, that suicide is a sin; you are not unaware of that. You decide that in this situation it is an exception, that this is the elimination of something that should not exist, and that it's justified; surely anyone who knew what you're going through will agree that this is the right thing to do. But even if He does not agree, well- you're probably going to hell in either case. It's not as if it will make much of a difference, whether you do this or not, when it comes to how you will end up. And, in truth, you are at your limits, and you can't deny that; you can't bring yourself to keep on like this, and even knowing that you're going to hell, the thought of ending this all almost feels relieving. This is selfish, you know, but you are desperate.

Since your marriage Claudia has changed more than you did. She has reached her own limits much like you have, but in body rather than mind; she is thinner and weaker than ever, and she was already quite startlingly fragile and sickly in the first place. She is bound to a wheelchair, capable of moving her legs but not of using them to walk. It must have taken all the strength she ever had to move her arms to do what she did as nothing but her mind seems to function normally. Dressed warmly and comfortably, if not exactly flatteringly she sits in her wheelchair, facing the window and eyeing the scenery there as the light of the setting sun bathes her in its glow. It does not hide her sickly, pale complexion, the fragile thinness of someone just barely hanging on to life, but it does not stand out as much. She smiles at you as you come in; such a gentle, sweet, kindly woman, cheerful in a calm, understated way, lively but not irritatingly so, patient to degrees you didn't think was humanly possible. She astounded you when you first met her and continued to during your entire life together, for you did not think people like her truly exist. If you could, if you were not yourself but someone else instead, if you could love, you would have loved her. She is the sort of person you'd love, if you could.

"How are you feeling?"

"A little tired, no more than the usual, but I'm alright otherwise. I'm going to have to avoid over-exerting myself if I don't want to collapse again, but you know what that means by my standards. I wish I could say that I don't move that much either way, but even if I act as usual it might be dangerous. I'll have to leave more and more to you, I'm afraid." Her smile doesn't fade one bit. "I'm sorry, dear, you'll need to take on some of my responsibilities with her, as well."

She is used to you not replying. Both of you glance at the crib where your child sleeps, a miniature copy of her mother, or at least she would have been if not for her mother's health and the lack of meat on her bones. You are abandoning her too, by doing this, you know this; you are abandoning your responsibilities, in a way. This is just a reminder of what you already know. Not even that thought stopped you. If you had not been yourself, it would have given you pause and made you reconsider.

You thought for long what to say to her, and how to tell you her goodbye. If you were not yourself, you would see her bright smile and suddenly reconsider, suddenly find it difficult to actually say the words, hesitate, but continue on with a heavy heart. You feel nothing instead. It's the constantly unfilled open hole, a hollow, empty space in place of your heart that's the true source of your despair; that and nothing else. Only someone who does not understand what it means and what it's really like would try to replicate this feeling.

"Claudia." You take her hand, so small your own nearly envelops it completely. "You did your best to save me, and I thank you for your efforts and everything you have done for me." The words feel as hollow as you feel while saying them. "But there is nothing to be done for me. Even you, who had done more for me than I thought possible, cannot help me. So I have decided that I must take responsibility for myself. I came here to say goodbye."

If you were not yourself, you would have said so much more, went on for much longer. Her smiled fades instantly, but she seems unsurprised, as if she saw this coming. She probably did. No one else could understand you like she did. "No," she says. You turn around and head for the door. "No", you hear voice from behind you again. "Kirei, my love-" you walk faster, even knowing there is no way she can reach you. There are sounds from behind you and then a thump, and she cries out your name again. Against all reason, you stop and turn around, to see her on the floor, crawling towards you. She can barely move and function and she looks smaller and more childlike than ever, but not even you, not even someone like you can think her pathetic, not even when both of you are fully aware of the futility of her efforts.

You aren't sure why you didn't just ignore her and leave, really. It's much like you to. But soon she is grabbing with her hand at your clothes and saying weakly, "I won't forgive you if you die before me, love." Then even that last remaining strength leaves her and she collapses on the floor. 

You idly lean down and hold her in your hands. With a weak smile you mutter, "It is not as though your rage will reach me. There can be no doubt that you will go to heaven, and I to hell."

There is one thing you must give her credit for, and that if it's postponing your plans that she wanted, then at least she succeeded at that. She does not awaken for a few days, and through those you wander like through a swamp, wasting your time away, with an empty mind. You eat three meals a day and fulfill your daily routines and do little to nothing in between but call the doctors and ask about her condition. Perhaps you could read or work but that is even more of a waste; soon everything you ever did during your entire life will be reduced to ashes, an effort as futile as Claudia's to help you. In the meantime, you wait. As much as you would like to take this opportunity to do what she stopped you from doing, to just go through with it while she isn't there, even if it's cruel, something stops you. The thought of responsibility, perhaps; the knowledge that you still need to tell her goodbye properly.

So when she awakens that is what you do. You walk into the room without thinking, without preparing a speech. You only stand beside her and look and say the first thing that comes to mind. "I could not love you", you confess, because that is the unfortunate truth.

"No," she says, "You love me," and then the smell of blood fills the room. Then something isn't right. The scene is warping, changing, twisting and then you are instead, looking at yourself, from the side. You see yourself wrap your hands around her throat, laugh as she screams and chokes out a cry, take a Black Key and skewer it though her, then another one, and another one, and another one. And just as it seems as you are done you see yourself pull them out of her, and next scream belongs to a child, and the scent of blood floods your sense of smell, as strong and vivd and bright as the red color suddenly covering the room. Screams and cries rings in your ears, and you are still looking at yourself from the side, your black outfit stained a darker color, the walls and floor all covered with blood and your own feet drenched in a bright red puddle; but you, and your laugh, and your smile, so bright and cheery, you're the one who's the most out of place in here. 

You feel sick. Too much floods your mind all at once, and you want to kneel over and vomit on the blood covered floor, but are aware suddenly that you have no body, and when you are looking down you are not sure what is it you are moving and with what you are feeling. You are here in mind, but not in body, you realize dimly. You are as dizzy as you are sick, but beneath that there's a swirl of something else, something just as overwhelming yet unlike the others a much less unpleasant sensation and you really don't want to acknowledge it, you really don't, but when you think of what you just saw you feel it more strongly. Another voice rings in your mind, but what it says, what the words are, you can't identify; this is too much for you, and your head is in pain.

You close your eyes, or at least you suppose you do, and when you open them again it's not you that's there, but Emiya Kiritsugu, a blood-covered dark figure much like yourself, but sorrowful and weak with slumped shoulders and tears on his face mixing in with the blood. Remains of flesh are on his face and his hands are wrapped around the throat of a woman, squeezing tighter and tighter while her face contorts with rage in a way the real one never would. "Yeah, that's fine." He is saying. "That's all right. It's already been said - I will bear you." And you suddenly remember who and where you are and you understand all that happened all at once and what this man rejected, and while there is a snapping sound and the scenery changes yet again, you think that you have never hated him before as much as you do now.


End file.
